


It’s Hard, Being a Kid and Growing up. It’s Hard and Nobody Understands.

by jungkyard



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adopted Peter Parker, Adoption, Angst, Dead Aunt May, Death, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Issues, Grief/Mourning, Homeless Peter Parker, Homelessness, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Running Away, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, loss of a loved one, not biological tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 21:15:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18106610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jungkyard/pseuds/jungkyard
Summary: After May dies from an unfortunate accident, Peter is left under the care of Tony, more specifically the Avengers. He tries his best to become acclimated, but feels like he doesn’t belong, like he’s a burden. In the midst of his depression, Peter makes a rash decision.





	It’s Hard, Being a Kid and Growing up. It’s Hard and Nobody Understands.

Despite it being more than a month since his aunt’s death, the wound left by her departure still stung as fresh as if it had just happened yesterday. It was like any other day, he left for school, she left for work; he returned, she never would. A quick death, they said, painless. As if that provided him any comfort. As if it lifted the guilt from his sore shoulders. Was it not Peter’s job to stop muggers? How had he managed to fail yet another loved one? The deaths were beginning to stack up, and he didn’t think he could handle another. 

So why did Tony Stark have to take him in? Sure, he was more than grateful, but who said he deserved any of this? If history has anything to say, Tony wouldn’t last long around Peter, especially considering their line of work. 

Over the past few weeks he’s asked himself,  _ why am I here and she isn’t?  _ He felt alone, despite being surrounded by his idols.  _ How selfish is that,  _ he scoffs.

In his bed, wide awake, Peter watched as the rising sun casted shadows from the window. He hasn’t had a good night sleep in what felt like forever, but could you blame him? Groaning, he stretched before rolling out of bed in his hoodie and sweats. He hesitated before leaving his room.

The team would most likely be outside eating breakfast right now, and Peter wasn’t sure if he was mentally prepared to face them. Up close, these brave protectors of the world were terrifying.

Peter was in no way a quiet kid, but the huge change in setting and the tragic events that transpired had left him much more reserved, and he felt that the fact that the Avengers had to babysit him now wasn’t everyone’s first choice. Gathering some of his old confidence, he turned the handle and let himself out, passing multiple doors as he walked down the long hallway towards the kitchen.

Inside, he could see Captain America, The Falcon, and The Winter Soldier all gathered around the white granite island, half chugged water bottles in hand. He could assume that they had just come back from a morning run, and felt almost embarrassed at how he had just woken up while they already started their day. Their chatter was loud, and Peter hoped he could sneak by unnoticed.

He snaked around the counter, head low. As the fridge  _ fwushed  _ open, Peter realized their conversation had come to a halt, and turned to see all three mens’ eyes on him. 

“Uh,” he debated quickly what to say, “morning.”

Captain America nodded stiffly, “Good morning, Peter.” 

Their chat continued as Peter takes his apple in hand and shuffles off to sit at a table farther away from the group, although he could still catch little tidbits of the conversation with his increased hearing. He feels his cheeks redden as words like  _ little  _ and  _ child  _ slide into his ear, but opted to ignore them as he ate his apple.

From the corner of his eye he sees The Black Widow enter the room and join her friends with a happy greeting. Peter tried not to feel left out. He might technically be an Avenger, but that doesn’t mean he’s a part of their family. They had all been through so much together, why would they care about Peter’s story?

He had struggled with the fact that Tony would be the one to take him in.But, it wasn’t because Tony liked him, how could that be the reason? He was just some poor orphan from Queens. No, it was just because of his powers. His powers, that’s all.

_ I don’t deserve anyone else,  _ he would tell himself.

The press had a field day with this information, bombarding Pepper and Tony with questions. Because, duh, it’s a little weird for a billionaire to suddenly adopt one of his interns, parents or no parents. But Tony just cooly stated he was the son of a family friend, and just wanted what was best for him. Tabloids were printed immediately.  _ Secret Son of Stark? Playboy Steps Up As Father. _

Tony had been at Aunt May’s funeral, along with the other handful of people she befriended. After he cried himself out, Tony awkwardly gave him a hug,  _ we’re not there yet _ , and told him his plan to take him in.

_ “You’ll be living in the same building as the other Avengers, that’ll be cool, won’t it? Isn’t that every kid’s dream?” He tried to lighten the mood. _

_ But Peter felt unsure. He’d miss Queens, the familiarity of his home, his family. Who was he without them? He weighed his options: be homeless on the streets of New York or live with the only close adult he had left. They were both terrifying, but he reasoned the latter was the smarter of the two. Peter forced a sad smile on his face for Mr. Stark. “That sounds like fun. Are… How do the others feel about this? Pepper? What will the news say?” _

_ Mr. Stark made a dismissive  _ psh  _ noise and, not without bravado of course, declared they could all shove it.  _

_ Peter pretended not to notice the worried look that fell across his features as they made their way back to Peter’s home for his things.  _

 

Peter was halfway done with his apple when Hawkeye sauntered over to him in a casual shirt. He gave Peter a friendly clap on the back, causing him to give a slight shudder.

“Ah,” Clint started, taking a chair across from the boy, “didn’t mean to scare you, kiddo. Whatcha got there?”

Peter appreciated Clint’s rare attempts at conversation. Like Steve, he was upset when he discovered the age of their newest Avenger, saying he was far too young. Peter could understand the father’s concern, but that didn't make him feel any less self-conscious. At least Clint actually talked to him from time to time. 

Peter smirked slightly, “An apple, ever heard of it?” 

Clint narrowed his eyes with a smile, “Shut up, smart ass. Is that all you’re having for brekkie? Don’t you have a super metabolism? C’mon,” he scooted out of the chair, pushing Peter from his seat and towards the others, “let's get you some actual grub.” 

The group eyed him as he neared, and Peter felt the slight, tell tale ache form on the back of his neck. 

“Awake before 12? Clint, that’s a new record,” Natasha joked, giving him a light, by her standards, punch on his shoulder. 

“Oh ha, ha. Some of us actually need beauty sleep, you jerk.” He pushed passed them towards the fridge, grabbing a carton of eggs and leaving Peter. “How about some protein?”

While Clint started on the eggs, Peter fiddled nervously with his hands, keeping his head low, not noticing the sharp glance Clint gave Cap.

Steve cleared his throat, causing Peter to look up. “So, uh, how’s school?” 

“It’s, uh, it’s good,” he says, surprised, “ya it’s good… Just got a physics test back, 94%.”

“Living with Stark, he should’ve gotten 100%.” Sam clips him. He’d be lying if he wasn’t a bit offended at that, but Peter figured he rather be the butt of a joke than not apart of it at all.

“Take that up with Mr. Stark. Where is he, anyways?” He asks.

“Where do you think?” Steve rolls his eyes. "His lab. Best not to bother him, kid.”

Peter frowned, then nodded, taking a seat at the kitchen island. Clint set some plates before dropping the eggs and toast on them. 

“There,” he said, “I cook, you clean.”

The Avengers sat down, conversation starting easily. Peter would try to get a word in, but someone else, usually Sam or Clint, would talk over him, and he’d shrink, unnoticed. 

Eventually Peter resigned to dropping his plate in the sink, walking out the door, as the loud talking continued without him.

On his way out, Peter thought back to the conversation he accidentally overheard between Tony and Steve the night after the funeral. It was so late, they probably didn't expect him to be awake.

_ From his spot behind the wall, Peter could see the dark outlines of Tony and Steve, both visibly disheveled. A bit further back, sitting in a chair and watching calmly, he could also see the Black Widow.  _

_ “You can’t just,, take the kid in, Tony.” Steve said. _

_ “Ya and why not? If I can keep Sam and Bucky from killing themselves one more kid won’t be a problem.” Tony responded, sternly, but still trying to prevent a full blown yelling fest through humor. _

_ “This isn’t a joke, Tony! He’s an actual child that will be under  _ your  _ care! You think you could do that? You?”  _

_ Tony tensed, letting go of the grip he had on the table he was leaning against and stalking towards Steve. Natasha stood up at that, edging closer. Just in case. _

_ “I know this isn’t a joke, Steve. He doesn’t have  _ any  _ other options, ok? I-” _

_ “Peter needs someone who can actually take care of him! Support him, take him to school, cook for him, love him!” _

_ “You think I don’t know that?!” Tony shouted, pushing Cap. “Hm? You think I don’t know how shitty this situation is? How undeserving this kid is of everything that’s happened to him?” _

_ “Tony-” _

_ “I,” his fists unclenched, “All I want is what's best for him. I don’t know if that’s me, if it’s-” he raised his hand, referring to the luxurious building, “-this, but I’m going to find out.” _

_ At that, Tony walked away, leaving Steve alone with Natasha. Peter went back to his room, pleading with himself to fall asleep.  _

 

* * *

 

On Friday, during second period, Peter got pulled out of school by an urgent Happy Hogan, who didn't even bother to sign him out of school. It was a mission, not too big, but Tony, Happy said, wanted to be sure. 

Peter changed on the car ride over, ditching his school clothes in favor of his suit, attaching his web shooters. Happy had to keep the car locked to prevent Peter from taking his preferred form of transportation. Once the car came to a screeching halt, Peter shot out, comm active. 

 

Tony Stark, being the man he is, decided to host a small (huge) get-together after the success of the mission from earlier. What could he say? He liked parties, and it was a fine way to blow off some steam. And, God, was he stressed lately. 

He could barely go out in public without being mobbed by reporters, much more so than usual, that is. And ever since his fight with Rogers, things have been tense, so he’s been trying his best to distract himself. 

So ya. A party. 

Swirling his scotch, Tony looked around and admired the good sized crowd, spotting the Avengers scattered throughout the large room. What caught his eye, however, was the absence of a certain web swinger. Tony realized his parties were more adult-oriented, but what kid wouldn’t be honored to join an Avengers party? 

Pushing off of the bar, Tony trudged through the crowd towards Rhodey in the middle of a conversation. He grabbed his arm and pulled him off to the side. 

“Hey man!” He shook his arm free. “What’s the deal? Got rejected a third time?”

“Have you seen Pete?” He asked lamely.

“No, should I be keeping an eye out for him?” Rhodey asked, teasing tone dropping.

Tony ran a hand through his slicked hair. “I’m sure it’s nothing..” 

“Okay Tones,” he gave him a sympathetic look, “I’ll let you know if he turns up,”

Tony nodded his thanks to his friend before disappearing out into the crowd, eyes alert.

 

* * *

 

Peter could hear the rhythmic beat of  music from the floor below. The Avengers were celebrating their earlier win, but he didn’t feel like he deserved it. They won the battle, sure, but Peter had messed up Big Time. How was he supposed to know clones from the real thing? He’s been struggling so much with proving himself as more than just a kid to the Avengers, and swing-kicking Hawk Eye in the face couldn’t have been any help.  
  
“Idiot..” he scorned himself, lightly digging his nails into the back of his hand, “they’ll never bring you on a mission again.” He doesn’t belong here. He’s not cut out of this. He should just go back to Queens, help the little guy. It would benefit the Avengers more than him living under the same roof as them.   
  
Peter could feel the pressure of tears behind his eyes, threatening to fall. _Idiot, idiot, idiot!_ He wiped his eyes, standing up from his place on the bed and looking around his room. He still had his suit on from earlier, sweat stuck inside making him itch.   
  
Peter looked to the backpack lying slack against his desk, and, in a split second decision, he grabbed it, dumped out his school work, and stuffed it with whatever he found useful: warm clothes, some money he had lying around, extra web fluid. Turning towards his window, he opened it, mask on now, but still hesitating.  
  
_Come on Parker, come on. It’s for the good of the Avengers; for the good of New York._  
  
Gathering the courage, backpack secure, Peter leapt from the window, throwing a web and catching himself before disappearing amongst the city.  
  


 

* * *

  
  
Tony was panicking by the time FRIDAY alerted him.  
“Boss,” she said, “a window has been opened on level 71.”  
“Peter’s room?”  
“Yes, boss.”  
Tony’s heart dropped, and in his frantic dash to the elevator, he almost knocked over Clint.  
“Dude!” he said, “What’s the rush? Gotta puke? Bathroom’s that-a-way.”  
“Peter’s gone.” He snapped, trying to get past Clint as he held him back.  
“Whoa whoa what? Like, on patrol or—“  
“ _No_.” Finally pushing him out of the way, Tony reach the elevator.  
“I’ll tell the others,” Clint stated, serious now, as the doors began to close, “turn your comm on.” The doors shut just as he saw Clint run off.

  
The ride to the Avenger’s common floor was agony. Peter was probably halfway across the city by now. God, this was his fault wasn’t it? Was he not spending enough time with the kid? Was it grief? School? Peter was his responsibility now, and he assumed, according to the books he didn't read, that keeping track of your child was step number one.  
Reaching the 71st floor, Tony sprinted off the elevator and towards Peter’s room. He shoved the locked door open and look around. No kid, just a scattered mess of clothes and an open window.  
“Shit. _Shit_.” Stumbling over dirty shirts on the floor, Tony ran towards his workshop where his latest suit would be waiting for him.

  
Once he reached it and got suited up, he was out the door, Tony could hear the static of his comms assaulting his ear before being able to make out voices.  
“Tony,” Sam called, “what’s the sitch?”   
“Pete’s gone, he took a backpack with clothes and everything.”  
“You think he’s running away?” Steve asked, concerned.  
“What else would he be doing?” Tony shot back. He scanned the city below him for any sign of Peter, but came up empty. “Split up and look for him. He’s in his suit.” 

“FRIDAY,” Tony began, “track Parker for me, will you?”

**“** Yes, boss, give me a moment.” She replied.

Tony continued his flight across the city in the meantime, ignoring the call of his hero name from the ground. He could sign autographs later, right now he had to find his kid. 

After a good minute, FRIDAY’s voice rang clear in his head.“I am unable to track Peter Parker’s current location.”

“OK, and why is that?” He grit his teeth, landing briefly on top of a high building.

“It would seem the tracker has been deactivated. My apologies.”

Tony let out a long, stressed sigh, fists clenched. 

“Any sign of him?” He asked his teammates in the comms after a moment.

A disappointing chorus of  _ no _ ’s answered him, before Natasha spoke up.

“I found a trail of webs. I’ll send you the coordinates.”

Tony wouldn’t have been able to hold back his sigh of relief if his life depended on it.

“Good work, Nat. On my way.”

Recalibrating, he shot into the sky as fast as he could. Everything would be okay. He would reach Nat, he’d track down Peter, they’d go home and laugh this whole situation away. The noise of the city blurred below him as he quickened his pace, finally spotting Natasha, Sam,  Bucky, and Steve all looking up expectantly at him as he landed.

“So?” Tony asked, mask lowering. Natasha nodded downward over the edge of the building, where a string of web was blowing soundlessly in the wind, another not far off.

Tony didn't bother saying thanks before he took off on the trail, Sam close behind and Steve, Bucky, and Natasha on foot, Clint most likely scanning from somewhere higher up. 

He flew over multiple buildings for what felt like miles, following the trail until there was no more string to follow. Tony and Sam landed, the others catching up.

“Shit!” Tony exclaim, punching the nearest wall, rock cascading across his fist.

“Calm down, Tony!” Steve mediated, stepping in between him and the wall. “We’ll split up again, search the area. You and Sam can track from above. Ok? We’ll find him.” 

Tony stared at him, heated, but nodded nonetheless and flew up into the air again. Steve looked at the others who gave him a thumbs up and ran off. He let out a worried exhale. What a night.

 

* * *

 

The wind whipped at his skin as he swung through the air. Even with the suit, he was freezing. New York is New York, superhero or not, he supposed. 

Peter had left the Tower around 40 minutes ago, and was able to distance himself pretty well. He had no clue where he was going, he just knew he couldn’t stay there. The idea of calling up Murdock and asking to crash for the night bounced around his head, but he dismissed the thought, reasoning he disrupted enough people's lives for the night. 

Landing on the floor outside a dank alley, Peter figured he’d change and go on foot from there. He surveyed the area before walking into the shadows where he removed his mask, but opted to keep his spider suit on underneath his civilian clothes, figuring more layers couldn’t hurt.

The open street was crowded even for this time of night, people coming and going from every direction. Peter liked being able to blend into a crowd, but as he continued walking, reality started to set in. Was he really doing this? Growing up in Queens, he knew first hand how bad the streets were, and the thought of being all alone for the first time scared him…. But, he had no other options. No other family. It was this or the Avengers, and they didn't want him. 

So he trekked on, walking the streets while people pushed past him forcefully, too caught up in their own world. The sounds all around him and the flashing lights of the cars hurt his senses, but he tried his best to disregard them, keeping his head low and eyes squinted. And after a few blocks, Peter found a secluded, less gross (by New York’s standards) alley to rest in. It was less than ideal, but at least he could rest his strained senses. 

Peter sluggishly tucked into the corner a top a piece of cardboard, folding into himself in order to preserve some warmth. Being exposed to the cold was beginning to affect his energy. He couldn’t shiver like a normal human because of his spider DNA. Unfortunate considering his current situation. His eyelids were beginning to feel too heavy to bear, and he could feel his breathing lulling to a slow, steady in and out.  _ A few minutes of sleep won’t hurt…  _

Next thing he knew, he was asleep against the wall.

 

* * *

 

Tony knew tracking heat signatures in order to find Peter would be useless, so he opted for own sight, which was only improved by his helmet. No word from the other as he searched the area, checking crowds as well as hidden alleys. Peter had to be here, he  _ had  _ to. 

 

Because if he wasn’t, that would mean Tony failed another person.

 

He wouldn’t give up until Peter was  _ home,  _ until he was safe and happy.

So he continued to search, even as he heard hopelessness creep into the others voices; even as the crowds began to disperse for the night; even as his limbs became stiff with cold; he kept looking. 

Until, something caught his eye. A blur (a boy?) slumped against a wall in the corner of an alley. Immediately alert, Tony flew down, taking in the full image in front of him.

His heart swelled with relief, a sigh escaping his tight chest the moment he saw him; Peter. Spider-Man. His kid.

He instantly disregarded his helmet, his suit, everything in favor of running towards Peter and enveloping him in a desperate hug. Peter groaned below him, his eyes opening barely before closing once more. His skin was ice cold and snow was beginning to gather in his hair, yet he wasn’t shivering. 

Tony checked him for any visible wounds, finding none.

“Pete?” He whispered, hoping to spur him from his slumber. Besides from the agonizingly slow rise and fall of his chest, Peter’s body stayed limp in Tony’s arms. “Kid?”

Footsteps could be heard behind him, light, like they wished not to disturb the  _ Pieta- _ esque scene before them. They grew closer, and then next thing Tony realized there was a familiar leather-clad hand gripping his shoulder.

“Tony,” Steve said delicately, “we gotta get him back, snap out of it.”

He’d argue in any other situation,  _ what are you, my mom?,  _ but instead just nodded dully, reentering his suit before, with the utmost care, plucking Peter up from the floor. 

Steve grabbed his backpack, and then they were off towards the tower.

 

When they arrived, Tony rushed towards the medical floor, bursting through the doors, alerting Bruce, who had his face in a thick book.

“Tony!” He gasped, almost falling off his chair. He stood up and walked towards them when he saw Peter. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Tony was physically disheveled by now, tired eyes wide with panic, and perfect skin dripping sweat. He was breathing heavily, and Bruce could see the onset of a panic attack from miles away. He took Peter from the man’s arms, settling him on a cot and checking his pulse. It was slow, irregular. Bruce could see the shaky way Peter’s chest barely rose, and the paleness of his cold skin. 

He turned to Tony, who had taken a seat not far off and was trying to regulate his erratic breathing. Bruce squatted eye-level in front of him, soothingly rubbing his hand across his arm. Just then, Steve and Natasha entered, a grim look on their faces. Steve’s expression morphed into something of a surprised look when he saw the state of Tony.

“Is he… Is he okay?” Steve asked, genuinely concerned. 

Bruce turned to face him, then stood up. “He’s having a panic attack. Comfort him for me while I look at Peter.” Steve nodded, going to sit besides Tony, rubbing a comforting hand up and down his back. 

Natasha stood next to Bruce, looking at Peter. “We found him asleep out in the city. He’s unresponsive, but has no signs of any physical wounds.” 

“Hypothermia,” Bruce supplied, gathering blankets from the nearest closet and wrapping them against Peter’s form. Then, cleaning his hands, he grabbed a nasal cannula, securing it around Peter’s head before hooking it to an oxygen source, as well as heated blanket. “We just need to warm him up and keep him under watch.”

He turned towards Steve and Tony, the latter of which seemed to have calm down. Tony looked up as Bruce approach. “Is he--?”

“He’ll be fine, Tony”

The man sighed in relief, dropping his hands into his open palms and dragging them across his tired face. “Jesus.” 

“... It’s late, Tony, why not get some sleep?” Natasha suggested, eyeing him.

He shook his head, “No way, not leaving Peter out of my sight.” He stood up, looking at Steve and Natasha. “Thank you for your help. Go rest… please.”

The two friends exchanged a worried look, but nodded nonetheless, exiting the room together. 

Tony could feel tears prick at his eyes, gritting his teeth and looking towards the ceiling to prevent them from falling. Bruce looked at him sympathetically, placing a hand on his shoulder, Tony responding by going in for a hug. 

“I was so worried, Bruce. I couldn’t have him hurt, not again, not after everything.”

Bruce wrapped his arms around his friend. “I know, Tones, I know. He’s okay now.”

“He’s not though,” Tony almost sobbed, squeezing harder, “and he won’t ever be, not as long as I’m his guardian. He could’ve died tonight.”

Bruce separated them, trying to lock with Tony’s avoidant, teary eyes. “You’re new to this, Tony, and that’s ok. Peter is too. You’ll get through this together.”

Tony looked up at him, nodding solemnly as he dragged another hand across his face and sighed, “thanks, Bruce... Sorry”

Bruce shook his head like it wasn’t a big deal, patting Tony on the back. “Just try to remember we’re all here for you, Tony.”

 

* * *

 

The light beeps of a heart rate monitor invaded Peter’s dreams as he came into consciousness. He recognized the softness of a bed, the chill of the air against his exposed face, but the warmth of the blankets that covered his body. The soft conversation of others alerted him to their presence, and he tensed as he realized for the first time that this was not same place he fell asleep.

He slowly cracked a single eye open, dragging it across the eerily white room until it landed on two men, recognizing Tony and Steve, enthralled in conversation. At their presence, memories of the night before began to seep back, dread at the conversation to come filling his gut.

Running away, falling asleep, a blurry image of Mr. Stark before falling back asleep. Exhaustion gripped at his sore muscles, but Peter would still take the first opportunity to escape the tower if he could. Then Mr. Stark caught his eye, and he felt shame as he saw how  _ tired  _ he looked.

“Peter?” He walked towards the bed, and Peter knew then that it was too late to feign sleep.

“Hi,” he said quieter than intended, cheeks flushing and voice cracking slightly.. 

Tony turned towards Steve, jerking his head towards the door. Steve just nodded and left the room, leaving Tony and Peter by themselves. Tony sat down at the end of Peter’s bed, not facing him.

“You scared the hell out of me, you know… out of everyone,” 

Peter shrunk against his pillow, not saying anything, the solemness in his mentor’s voice like a metal-fisted punch to the gut.

Tony lets out a long sigh, rubbing his hands up and down his legs anxiously in a repetitive motion. "I've never been great at communication. Talking was always hard, so I’d push everything very deep down inside me,” he turned at last to look at Peter, “it wasn’t a healthy decision. I ended up doing a lot of dumb things because I didn't want to face what I knew would hurt.”

Peter felt his eyes burn from the onset of tears, breathing becoming heavy.

“I know that a lot has changed, everything is different now, and that that’s scary, but I need you to know that you’re not alone, Peter. You can talk to me.”

Peter just shook his head, closing his eyes as soft tears began to roll now his face.

“Oh, Pete,” Tony scooched closer to him, “it’s okay..”

“It’s not,” he hiccuped, “I don’t  _ belong  _ here, Mr. Stark. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I put you through all this. I’m sorry you got stuck with me.”

“Peter-” Tony began, but got cut off as Peter just shook his head again, not wanting to hear what he had to say. The man sighed, continuing on anyways. “I didn't get  _ stuck _ with you, kid. If… If anything you got stuck with me. You don’t deserve to be in the position you’re in, but here we are… 

You’re a great person, a great hero. I’m sorry we made you feel like you had no other choice but to run away.”

Peter stayed silent for a moment. “I…” he wiped a tear from he cheek with the back of his hand, “I know there’s been tension between you and the Captain… I just… didn't want to be the cause of another civil war…”

Tony allowed himself to let out a soft huff of laughter, slinging an arm around his kid and pulling him into a hug. “You don’t gotta worry about Ol’ Man Steve, Peter. He’s not angry, just worried. Maybe after a one-on-one between you two in the training room, he’d realize there’s no reason to be so concerned.”

A slight smile found its way to Peter’s face, cracking his tear tracks, Tony considering it a win.

Then, squeezing him harder, Tony said, “I know this situation is less than ideal for you, but I want you to know that you’re one of us, Pete. You’re apart of the family. Things are hard right now, but they’ll get better. I’ll make sure of it.” They seperated, Tony looking down to see Peter’s smile widen, then the small, but sure, nod of his head.

“Get some rest, we’ll talk more in the morning.”

Peter’s response was quiet, yet clear as he settled back into the bed, huddling closer into the warmth of the covers. Tony gave him a final brush of his hand through the boy’s hair before standing up and relocating himself back into the chair nearby. 

He sighed deeply, knowing all too well this was the first of many challenges to come. However, even after this Hellfest of a night, Tony couldn’t find any reason to regret his choice of taking in Peter, and, as he drifted off to sleep, he could feel all his worries dissipate at the prospect of watching Peter grow and thrive.

**Author's Note:**

> hi!!! thank you so much for reading!
> 
> PLZ if you liked it leave a comment! let me know how it made you feel and what you liked most! 
> 
> it means so much to me reading these nice comments!!! it only takes a second to make my day! 
> 
> also share my work with your friends!!   
> hmu on instagram @jungkyard if you’re feeling friendly!


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